Just Bonnie

I tell people I’m obsessed with Instagram Stories, like I actually know what I’m talking about. Truth is I’m on my phone most evenings, skipping through them as fast as possible. Another selfie from the gym. Skip. Someone’s ex in the background where they shouldn’t be. Skip. A girl posting something she knows her boyfriend will see. Dumb. Skip. The app’s barely worth having.

Except Bonnie Strange. Every single story of hers, I watch.

There’s something about her that just works. Maybe it’s that she’s genuinely witty or just genuinely herself. But mostly it’s that she looks better without clothes. She knows it. I know it. The whole internet knows it. And she’s not shy about it. Even after having a kid, she’ll post something and you remember why you started following her in the first place.

I’m aware I think about her way too much. I’d marry her. I’d be fine being her secret thing. I’d just be happy existing in her orbit somehow. That’s probably unhinged, but everyone on the internet is obsessed with someone at this point, at least I’m honest about it. I know it’s weird. I know I should unfollow and do something better with my nights. I won’t though. She just looks better naked.